Mr. Brentry appeared unconcerned that while standing on a public walkway outside his home, he was holding a confidential conversation with a total stranger. Dressed only in his night attire, the inappropriateness of his actions seemed to have passed him by. But Aaron saw that Emma was aware of the incorrectness of this conduct by the subtle way in which she voiced her concerns.
“Papa, now is not the time or place for this debate. I think we must go indoors. You will have ample opportunity to continue this delightful conversation about my marital prospects when Mr. Trent joins us next week.”
Aaron realized attending the rout would only prolong their acquaintance. And he would prefer to have a clean break.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to attend,” he told her. “This week, I have commitments elsewhere. I plan to call upon my solicitor, then I must return to Windhurst Hall as soon as possible. There is much to be done.”
Emma smiled at him. “You are invited, sir. An invitation shall be sent to St. James’s Square, and the choice is yours. You may choose to attend…or not.” Without offering further persuasion, she turned and walked toward the house.
Strangely, he felt a sense of loss and regret. Although their encounter had been fleeting, it had been intense, and as a result, he was left with a desire to know her better.
But unfortunate as it was, he decided he would not join the rout party, even though he would dearly have loved the chance to encounter Miss Emma Brentry once again. It would be best if he kept his distance.
* * * *
At the first opportunity, Aaron called upon his solicitor, Mr. Edward Templeton on Broad Street, to seek advice concerning Windhurst Hall. The two men had known one another for a number of years, and over time, they had become firm friends.
Standing at the office window, Aaron looked out at the people promenading down below. He was thinking how his life might have been had he not gone to war and fought against Bonaparte. That battle had cost him dearly. Not only had he fought for his country and nearly lost, he had also been made to fight for his life―for his very survival.
Even now, having returned to the sanctuary of England, all was not safe. Through his cousin’s selfish actions, he was now forced to defend his rights to ownership of his own land and his home. The battle was not over yet.
Aaron shook his head. The weight of despair and despondency sat heavy on his shoulders.
“Had I known what Phillip intended, I would have made other arrangements for Windhurst Hall during my absence. But what is done, is done. I must move forward.”
Edward nodded. “You are right. You should never have given your cousin the power to manage your estate. But in all fairness, you weren’t to know what would happen. Had I an inkling of what he intended, as your solicitor, of course, I would have advised differently.”
“You did advise me. You said I should think twice before I signed the document, but fool that I was, I did not listen.” Aaron crossed the room. Edward was sitting at his desk, and Aaron took a seat opposite. “Edward, how am I to get Windhurst Hall back from the clutches of that cad, Cuthbert Williams? As my solicitor, you have set out my options. We have agreed it would be impossible to take legal action against Phillip as my signature gave him power of attorney.” Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “So, looking at it objectively, I don’t have a leg to stand on, do I?”
Edward solemnly shook his head. “Afraid not.”
“So, now as my friend, advise me.”
Shuffling a few papers on the desk, Edward looked up and said, “In order to regain Windhurst Hall, you need to find some money to pay off the promissory note. Williams won’t relinquish his rights unless Lord Merton’s debt is paid in full. Have you no one you can ask for a loan?”
“I’ve thought about asking my bankers.”
“I would suggest you do not approach your bank. The interest they charge would take you years to repay. And money lenders are out of the question. Is there no one else?”
Aaron stood and returned to the window. Squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun, he looked absently at the passersby outside as his thoughts wandered to Emma.
“Strange as it might seem, there is…someone,” he said.
“And this someone might help?”
“I’m not sure. We’ve only recently met, and she offered assistance to―”
“She?”
“Yes…a Miss Emma Brentry. We met quite by chance, and when she heard of my predicament, Miss Brentry offered to help with Windhurst Hall in exchange for…”
“In exchange for what?”
“What I’m about to tell is in the strictest of confidence, and you must promise not to reveal it.”
“Of course,” assured Edward.
“She offered to help in exchange for…marriage.”
There was silence.
Edward rested his elbows on the desk, placed his hands together to form a peak, and leaned forward. “I assume she has money.”
“I’m assured she comes with a substantial dowry,” Aaron replied.
Edward looked skeptical. “Do I know of her? Have I met her family?”
Aaron raised a brow and shrugged. “Miss Brentry is a merchant’s daughter and moves in different social circles to the ones we frequent. I doubt we have friends in common. Although there’s Lord Stratton…”
“Lord Randle Stratton?” Edward asked.
“Yes. It seems Stratton has already made an offer of marriage.”
“If Stratton’s interested, then she must come from good stock. He wouldn’t leg-shackle himself to just anyone.”
“Just because Stratton is willing to marry Miss Brentry, that doesn’t mean that I am.”
“What? Why not? Is there a problem? What’s your objection to her?”
“None. I have no objection to her personally. It’s just that…”
“Then it’s your pride standing in the way. You were always a stickler for right and wrong, but―”
“You cannot convince me that it’s right to take money from someone. A woman. Money that is not yours. Money you have not worked for.”
There was silence as the two men looked at one another, and then the penny dropped. Edward realized what the problem was. “Do not tell me, let me guess. You are still hankering after Charlotte Hunter. How can you? Not after the way she and her family treated you. Good God, man! I thought your infatuation with her was over when she married that American. Have you no sense? Do you not know how lucky you were to be rid of―”
“Enough.” Aaron ran a hand through his hair. “Preston was a better catch. He had a large plantation and…and she said she loved him.”
“Love be damned. Her parents saw the dollar signs and―”
“Not another word on the subject. It’s in the past, and I’ve moved on. Truly I have.”
“Then if that’s the case, I ask again… What’s stopping you from marrying this Miss Brentry?”
“Marriage is a big step, and one I had not thought to take at this time. I’m not fit to be a husband. Not in my present condition.” Aaron touched his scar. “And as for starting a family… Miss Brentry tells me this is the reason she is keen to marry. Her father is eager for an heir.”
“Then, if this is the case, and you have no real objection to the lady, I’d strongly urge you to consider her offer. If you wish to regain your lands and Windhurst Hall, marriage to Miss Brentry might be your solution.”
“And love? What of love between us?”
“That’s a question I cannot answer. Even those entering into a marriage believing affection already exists have no guarantees that a true and lasting love will flourish. You’ll have to take a chance like the rest of us.”
Aaron squared his shoulders. “Thank you for listening to my troubles, my friend. It has been an afternoon well spent. You laid out my options and made sense of this muddle. I have an appointment to keep…I have an invitation to a rout.”
Chapter 8
It was the night of the rout and Emm
a had dressed with great care.
Wearing a delicately embroidered, silver gauze gown with a high waist and short, puffed, leg-of-mutton sleeves trimmed with a fine laced Vandyke edging, she looked extremely becoming. She was happy with what she had chosen to wear for the occasion. Her mother’s sparkling diamond necklace and the matching earrings dazzled.
But the reflection in the mirror told her something was missing. Her vivacity for life was absent. The radiant glow that had shone in her eyes a week ago had vanished, and in its place was now a fretful frown of uncertainty.
Worried she wouldn’t see Aaron again or experience the taste of his lips as he ravaged hers, she invented the rout party on the spur of the moment in the hope of keeping him near. When he had been about to leave her at her door, the invitation to join them had been spontaneously given, and all week she had been busy contacting friends and organizing the event.
Emma still had no idea if Aaron intended to call upon them that night, and she was a wretched mess of uncertainty. Eager to meet him again, she was afraid that when she did, the memory of their perfect lovemaking would be shattered. The dream would dissolve and the reality of everyday life would return with a vengeance.
Her concern was that perhaps she had been too forward. Had Aaron seen through her manipulative ploy and callously dismissed her out of hand as a consequence? Ought she to have been more subtle in her pursuit of him? A thousand unanswered questions tumbled through her thoughts, and she was restless with longing.
It had been difficult to banish Aaron from her mind. She kept remembering the way he had kissed her. The way he had touched her body. And the way he had taken her to unimaginable heights of happiness as they made love.
Much to her surprise, she had succeeded in coercing Aaron into making love to her. Flushed with success, she now wondered if she could take it a step further and persuade him to marry her.
Emma wasn’t unintelligent, and in the week that had passed, she had instructed her father’s secretary, Mr. Morgan, to make discreet enquiries concerning Mr. Aaron Trent’s background. Wondering why Aaron had not married before, she was also intrigued enough to approach Lady Hester Bridgeworth with a mind to learning more.
Lady Hester, a patroness of Camden Orphanage and other charitable societies, moved in Bath’s elite circles. She had become a friend of the Brentry family. And as Mr. Brentry was a generous financial contributor to the orphanage, Lady Hester had been more than willing to share what little knowledge she had of Aaron’s circumstances.
Emma had been proven right. Aaron was indeed an honorable gentleman. He came from a good family, and before the loss of his estate, he was an excellent landlord and master to his tenants.
Aaron was considered by most people to be a respectable matrimonial catch, and before leaving England to fight in France, he had been vigorously pursued by young debutants in search of a spouse. There had also once been a hint of an engagement to a Miss Charlotte Hunter, or so Lady Hester had whispered, but nothing had come of it. Miss Hunter, it seemed, had married a wealthy plantation owner and was now believed to be living in America with her husband, Mr. Preston.
Except for his current lack of fortune, there was nothing about Aaron that her father could object to. It was unfortunate he had lost Windhurst Hall, but Emma thought it to be only a temporary problem and one that could be easily rectified…with money. Her money.
All she had to do was win Aaron’s trust and persuade him to tie the knot and their problems would be solved. Aaron would regain Windhurst Hall, she would be happy with her choice of husband, and her father would be delighted when grandchildren arrived.
Emma’s concern in marrying Aaron was that she was a merchant’s daughter. Merchants’ daughters and landed gentry never mixed…at least, not in her world. She also wondered if, in the long run, she would be doing Aaron a great disservice by marrying him.
Would his connection with her family shame him? Would he consent to marry beneath his rank and into trade for the sake of Windhurst Hall? And would her dowry be enough to lure him to the altar?
The sound of loud music drifted from the saloon, bringing her out of her thoughts.
A small orchestra comprising of a pianist, a cellist, and a flutist had been hired for the evening, and as she stood next to her father, welcoming their guests to their home, she was aware that one of Bach’s minuets was being played and her feet were tapping. She longed to leave the hallway and join the others in dance but knew she had still to greet several guests.
“You ought to join Lord Stratton,” her father suggested. “I’m sure his lordship is waiting to pounce on you and claim a dance. I can see him standing in the doorway beneath the arch to the saloon. He hasn’t taken his eyes from you.”
“I detest it when someone stares at me.”
“Put him out of his misery, my dear. Go dance with him.”
“Papa, I have no desire to prance about the room with Lord Stratton. He will only persist in his advances, and those I must refuse.”
“I’m at a loss. If you have no intention of accepting his offer of marriage, why did you send him an invitation to attend this rout? He is a most desirable partner, my dear. See how Miss Catherine Birch ogles him. I’m sure she would be more than pleased to―”
“She may have him. I simply do not care to dance with his lordship, and that is my final word on the subject.” Emma tilted her chin defiantly on high.
Seldom had she fought with her father, but on this occasion, she was adamant. No matter how keen her father was for her to dance with Lord Stratton, she was determined to refuse. The only reason Lord Stratton had been invited to the rout was to make Aaron jealous. But as of yet, Aaron had not appeared, and by the lateness of the hour, it looked like he wasn’t going to attend.
Then, just when Emma had given up hope of ever seeing Aaron again, she saw him framed in the doorway to the house, waiting to enter. The unexpected sight of him set her pulse racing. She almost dropped her fan.
When they parted, he had said he wouldn’t attend. But he was here. He had come to her. Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation.
Having relinquished his hat and gloves to a footman, Aaron approached. He looked dashingly handsome in full evening wear. He was wearing pale satin knee breeches and a dark velvet tailcoat that was a deep sapphire blue in color. His white shirt had a high, pointed collar and was tightly secured at the neck by a cascading cravat. To complete the outfit, he carried a cane and wore buckled shoes.
Aaron wasn’t quite the dandy, but tonight, he was certainly unmistakably a gentleman of fashion.
Their gazes locked, and her heart fluttered. She was about to move toward him but stopped. The stern curve of his mouth warned her to be cautious. All was not well.
Aaron bowed. She returned the salute with a curtsy, smiled, and held out her hand in greeting.
“I had dared to hope…but was beginning to think you would not call upon us tonight, Mr. Trent.”
Aaron bowed again and placed a kiss upon her hand. “Miss Brentry, how could I possibly refuse your kind invitation? As I recall, you practically ordered me to call upon you.”
Emma was startled. There was a sharp bitterness to his words. Almost as if he resented having to attend the rout. If that were the case, why had he come?
“I would not presume to command you to do anything, sir. I thought you to be your own master and took orders from no one. Perhaps I was mistaken in that thought.”
Her father stepped forward and vigorously shook Aaron’s hand. He then clapped his guest jovially on the back in a welcoming manner. “Mr. Trent, it’s good to see you once again. My Emma has explained in more detail how gallant you were toward her when a wheel on the carriage was damaged. I’m in your debt for coming to her rescue.”
Aaron shook his head. “It was nothing. Anyone in my position would have done the same, including…Lord Stratton.”
Lord Stratton was clearly visible. He was loitering in the hall and had not yet moved into the salo
on.
“But nobody did anything, except you,” her father said.
“Oh, but Papa, I think if Lord Stratton had been on the Bath Road, he would have been more than willing to perform the same services Mr. Trent did. Do you not think so, Mr. Trent?”
Aaron looked shocked. “You would have allowed him to assist you…as I did?”
“I doubt it. But we shall never know for certain, shall we?” she said. “It was the first time I stayed at an inn alone. The first time I dined with a gentleman alone. And the first time I…”
Emma caught the look Aaron flashed in her direction. His brows were drawn together, and he was clearly not pleased with her manner.
“If you will both excuse me,” Emma said. “I believe Lord Stratton wishes to speak with me. He has been most patient and is waiting for a chance to put his name on my dance card. I have promised him at least three dances, so I must not disappoint.”
“No, you certainly must not,” Aaron said.
Emma went to move away but stopped. She offered Aaron the dance card she was holding. “Would you care to add your name, Mr. Trent?”
“Why would I need to write my name upon your dance card?”
His cane hit brutally against the side of his leg, and she was instantly reminded of his limp.
The heat of embarrassment flared in her cheeks, and she fluttered her fan, attempting to cool them. Unwittingly, she’d forgotten Aaron’s leg injury. She should have remembered his disability. But the problem was, she didn’t think of Aaron as having an infirmity. She thought of him as being a strong, whole, complete person.
“I’m sorry. Of course, you will not be dancing. I did not mean to offend.”
“No offense taken.” It was a polite but insincere retort. “I suggest you go to Lord Stratton. It’s clear he’s waiting for you to join him, and you must certainly not disappoint his lordship.”
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